Fallout 3 A Rendezvous with Destiny
by Knower
Summary: The life story of Anton, a deep and complicated youth who would grow to become one of the most discussed and debated figures in the history of the world, a larger than life figure who bore the weight of the world on his shoulders.
1. Chapter 1

Thank you for tuning into the first entry in what I hope will be a successful story. Ideally, this will be an epic; a panorama of both the main character, Anton, and the lives and nature of the wastes and those who inhabit them. This will be the first story of any kind that I am actually publishing online to be read and responded to, so I would greatly appreciate any comments and helpful critique any readers could give me. I want to make this story unique by spending a great deal of time fleshing out the early childhood of my character and his life in the vault. It will be a great means of giving readers an idea of just what kind of person he is; what drives him, what motivates him, and what his thought process is. Readers should know that even in these first few entries, I may spoil some of the game's storyline, so anyone who has not completed the game's main storyline and does not wish to have it spoiled should not read this story until they have done so.

So, without further ado, here is Chapter 1 of the story I have decided to call A Rendezvous with Destiny. Enjoy.

Fallout 3: A Rendezvous with Destiny- working title

There was something about Anton. Anton himself could feel it, although he could never have articulated it to himself in words if he had bothered to try. It was a feeling, more than anything. Or maybe it was simply an idea. He wasn't sure. He could tell that others felt it in him, too. At times it came across as pride - at others, arrogance. Sometimes it was simply a spark behind his eyes; the deep, exhilarating glimmer of intelligence.

There was just more to him than met the eye. There was something more powerful, more complex than the slim, wide nosed little boy with the steely eyes and the delicate smile that people routinely saw wandering the halls of Vault 101. Indeed, that unknowable but very perceptible force within Anton seemed more than his youthful body could hold, and Anton himself seemed somehow more than the angular, sterilized corridors of the Vault could contain.

The adult residents of Vault 101 had known him from infancy. They remembered the unusual day when that massive steel door of the vault entrance had opened after it had closed for what should have been an eternity. They remembered James, the scientist, and the murmuring, but oddly quiet infant he carried in his arms. They had whispered among each other, gossiping over the purpose and intentions of these new vault residents. He had come to escape the hell of the world above, and to provide a safer life for his son. That was the story anyway, and as time passed, they almost came to accept it as fact. But they knew James had his secrets, and James himself doubted that they would ever come to fully accept him as a fellow vault-dweller.

Eventually, things had quieted down. James became respected as the resident doctor, taking a bright and idealistic young man, named Jonas, as his medical and research assistant. Even the overseer, stern-faced and suspicious of James from the beginning, began to rely on him, and even to respect him, for his contributions to vault life.

While James practiced and taught, and Jonas wondered after him, little Anton was growing from baby to toddler. As he became more aware of his surroundings, he was filled with a curiosity that outmatched other toddlers growing up in the vault. He was always tinkering with his toys, or stumbling around a room, searching every nook and cranny for a new hiding place. He had, even at that age, not only the wonder of seeing the various machines and technologies of the vault, but also an insatiable curiosity for how these technologies worked. He had a mind for mechanics and logic, but he always retained a taste for the sentimental, though James often had to work hard to coax it out of his son's emotionless exterior.

He loved when his father would read to him. He read from all kinds of books; wild fantasies – tales of new worlds, mystical and illustrious, and limitless freedom. Books written about worlds existing within the imagination, by authors belonging to a world that was lost, and could never be regained. Through his father's tales, Anton could, if only for a time, transport himself beyond the bleakness of the vault, the ongoing deception of its bitter isolation from the outside world which Anton would grow to detest. He travelled through worlds now long-lost; he wandered the yellow deserts of Arabia, his scimitar hanging at his waist, sifting through the sand in the hopes of plucking a priceless treasure from the rough. He waded through shin-deep snow, his feet crunching the hard-packed flakes that had fallen too recently to be frozen into ice, but not recently enough to retain the soft freshness of the season, clutching his rifle, hoping a good hunt, while longing for the change to stretch his feet before a fire.

It was not only works of fantasy that his father would read to him. He read from the Bible, and Anton saw as the serpent, the guise of Satan, tempted Eve in the opening salvo of his ongoing efforts to exploit the vulnerabilities of the human race. He saw Cain slay Abel out of his bitter jealousy, and Cain's subsequent exile by God. He saw Joseph: the slave who would become second-in-command of all the glory of Egypt, and Moses, drawn from the water, the infant who would challenge Pharaoh, who would lead his people to their true homeland.

He sat at Jesus' feet as he gave the Sermon on the Mount. He witnessed the teachings, the temptations, the miracles, the betrayal, the crucifixion, and the resurrection.

As Anton grew, his drive and capacity for learning only grew. He learned of the great things mankind had achieved. He saw Alexander the Great humble Darius and topple the Persian Empire, and lead his armies all the way to the far Indus before, to his heartbreak, his soldiers could bare to travel no more. He saw Caesar cross the Rubicon, knowing that he was at war with Pompeii and the Roman senate, and that nothing would ever be the same again in the world he knew. The die was cast. He saw waves of men, desperately seeking cover, storming the beaches of Normandy under oppressive enemy fire, terrified but never hesitating to take another step forward. He saw Pickett and his men, making their futile march across the open fields towards their entrenched foes, as two armies of men who revered the same ideals slaughtered each other on the field of battle.

Indeed, there was something about Anton. Something that would guide him all his life, and work its will through him. And so it began, he and his father, both unwittingly powering forward to their eventual rendezvous with destiny.


	2. Chapter 2

Anton awoke suddenly to the sound of his alarm. He squinted painfully, his eyes adjusting to the naked lighting of his room. For some reason, he had always had more trouble adjusting to the lighting than his peers. He had never seen Amata put her hand on her forehead when lights were suddenly turned on in a cramped room the way he always did. He sat up in his bed and ran a hand through his dark, faintly red hair. He remembered what day it was and felt a sharp twinge of dread. He was six years old, and the school year was beginning once again.

It wasn't the academics that concerned him. He was already proficient well beyond his peers, to the point that his classes often assigned him a more advanced curriculum than his classmates. He was seen widely by the adults of the Vault as a child of infinite potential, who would certainly grow up to benefit the vault in ways the current generation could not.

Indeed, his teachers praised his intellect, and could never help but to comment in class on his abilities. It was not the academics that concerned Anton, but his classmates. He was familiar enough with Amata, of course, being that she was the Overseer's daughter. She was at least a courteous one, naïve and idealistic though she was. But then there was Butch and his cronies. Butch was always a self-centered and spoiled child, lacking in intelligence, but always craving praise, and being in the center of attention. Then there were his "friends" to contend with, who were really more like his toy soldiers, frightened into submission by his aggressive demeanor, rather than true emotional companions.

But Butch wasn't an enemy to fear, certainly not for a child like Anton, who could outwit and make life difficult for Butch for simple amusement. Butch could not challenge his intelligence without suffering embarrassment, and he could not harm him physically, because any harm he inflicted on Anton would not be worth the punishment he and his family would in turn receive from the Overseer. No, Butch wasn't someone to be feared, but rather an annoyance to be avoided, as not being worth the trouble to dispatch.

Anton slid out from under his bed sheets and stood up out of bed, stretching and reaching for his dresser drawer. He pulled out his child-sized vault jumpsuit and laid it out carefully on his bed. He made his bed, slipped on his shoes, and walked down the hall toward his father's office.

He entered to find his father and Jonas huddling together over a computer terminal, analyzing some data for some project that his father always mentioned, but never talked about with his son in great detail. Neither of the men noticed Anton entering the room. His father was muttering to Jonas.

"It just doesn't make sense. It shouldn't be doing this…"

James finally looked up and fixated his gaze on Anton, his eyes lightening through his squared reading glasses as his lips creased into a smile.

"Oh, you're up already! Good morning son."

"Morning"

"Good morning Mr. Anton. It's back to school already, is it?" said Jonas, turning to face Anton as the glare from the terminal reflected off of his glasses and obstructed his eyes. "That's too bad, but the sooner the year starts, the sooner it ends, right?"

"If you say so, Jonas." Anton replied.

He had always liked Jonas. Some of his earliest and fondest memories, aside from those of his father, were of Jonas goofing off and having fun with him. When he was a toddler, sitting in his father's office watching an old holotape entitled "Cowboys and Indians", Jonas approached him after greeting James.

"You better watch out, Anton." He teased. "The Indians are gonna getcha."

Anton had giggled, saying "Don't be silly, Jonas. There aren't any Indians around anymore."

"Oh, is that a fact? Rumor has it there are a few Indians roaming the dark corridors of this very vault."

"If there were Indians in the vault, I would have seen them."

"Maybe you have."

"Oh yeah? Name one."

"Me"

"You!? No way Jonas, you're not an Indian."

"How do you know? Did that holotape show you what they looked like?"

"Well no but…if you're an Indian, where's your bown'darrow?"

"My what?"

"Your bown'darrow. The holotape said Indians used bown'darrows."

Jonas chuckled. "Oh, my bow and arrows, you say? Well it just happens to be right…"

Jonas scanned the room, then smiled deviously and retrieved a wiper blade used for cleaning windows.

"Right here!"

"That's a bown'darrow?"

"Sure is!"

From then on he and Jonas had made their own Cowboys and Indians game, with Jonas creeping low, stalking around the vault medical quarters, with Anton squealing with excitement, trying to evade him using his thumb and index finger as his six-shooter.

Anton returned to the present moment, and went to the refrigerator his father kept in his office and took a premade sandwich to eat for breakfast.

"What are you and Jonas up to, dad?"

"Oh, we're just trying to get this dumb terminal to work the way it's supposed to. I think Jonas broke it again."

"Did not!"

James laughed. "Well I hope your first day of class goes well, son. I'm sure it will."

Anton dressed and left for class. He arrived at his classroom early, and took a seat next to Amata. He didn't feel that he could relate to her, but for some reason she always seemed to be around him, and she seemed to admire him, although he couldn't see in himself what trait it was within him that she was so drawn to. He never could bring himself to return her affection, but he spent time with her nonetheless, figuring that it could never be a bad idea to score points with the overseer by becoming friends with his daughter.

Butch and his henchmen arrived soon after, Butch beaming with his usual foolish arrogance.

"Oh look, it's dorkface and his girlfriend! What's up, dorkface?"

"How cute, you learned a new word, you might pass English yet."

Amata rolled her eyes at the bickering.

Their conversation was interrupted when a slender man, dark-skinned and dark-eyed, with a youthful complexion and a professional manner, walked into the room with a bag of books and equipment and sat them on the front desk. He looked up at the class and smiled.

"Good morning kids, I'm a newly certified teacher here and I'm going to teach this class this year. You can call me Mr. Brotch."

"Hello, Mr. Brotch." The class chorused.

"Well, we're supposed to start this year off by testing your proficiency at grammar usage and punctuation. So we'll go ahead and do a little review…"

Anton tried to focus on the lecture at hand, but Butch, having taken the seat behind him, found it amusing to reach forward and flick him behind his ear intermittently. Anton shifted his focus to Butch, and tried to determine through the timing between flicks when best to get him back.

He felt it again.

_Alright_ , Anton thought to himself. _The next time he does it, I'll get him._

He felt Butch's hand approach behind him again. But this time he reached behind him, grabbed Butch's arm, and pulled with all his might. Butch lurched forward, slamming his ribs against his desk.

"Ow,Dorkface!"

Butch's cry was loud enough to get Mr. Brotch's attention.

"What's going on over there?" he said, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

"He hit me!"

"Oh, blow it out your ass, Butch!"

The class erupted into laughter upon hearing Anton's language. Mr. Brotch pretended not to share their amusement, and he tried to muffle a smile.

"Where did you learn that kind of language, young man?"

"From Butch's mother."

The class again broke into cackling. Even Amata gave in to her amusement, shaking with silent laughter, but looking visibly ashamed of herself for doing so.

"Don't talk about my mom like that! Mr. Brotch, he hit me, and he should get in trouble, not me!" Butch screeched, his face flushed red with a heated mixture of embarrassment and anger.

"He hit me first, Mr. Brotch. Seriously." Anton said cooly.

"Well, whatever the case was, using language is strictly against class policy. I'm going to have to send you to see the overseer. That kind of talk can't be permitted in my classroom."

The class fell into hushed murmuring. A trip to the overseer's office was a punishment reserved for only the most severe cases of misbehavior. Amata's eyes widened. Anton was taken off guard.

"The overseer, sir? It was just one word, and it just slipped out. Surely that is not grave enough to warrant a visit with the overseer, seeing as how busy he is and all…"

"Go."

Anton felt the eyes of every student in the room as he got his belongings together and left, following the hallway signs pointing him in the direction of the overseer's office.

He took great care to walk as slowly as possible, reluctantly, like a criminal going to the place of his execution. He thought about how the Overseer would react. Maybe he would go easy on him, considering his alliance with Amata, and his father's stature as the Vault doctor. That train of thought led him to another thought, which made his stomach turn with anxiety.

_Dad's gonna kill me._


End file.
